I wear old coats of treason and
Smiles made of brittle silver on the Cliff. all
the Fish talk to me as if I am who I say I am.
They gobble it up one by one and I
hide away in the night with my words
Burnt into my lungs; oh it's getting
harder to Breathe!
my mind is convoluted. pyramids
Built on mountains of pain.
And deep in the ocean,
Under the heavy weight of the sky,
You might find who I am.
I am a Fish looking at the new fellow
up there on the Cliff. He'll never
make it with those black lungs.
I do not own the photo.